Page 79 - Sharp Summer 2021
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“BEFORE THEY MADE WONDER WOMAN 1984, I SPOKE UP AND SAID THAT LITTLE GIRLS DESERVE REPRESENTATION. AND LITTLE BOYS NEED THAT TOO. IT MEANS A LOT TO MY SONS TO BE ABLE TO SEE A FEMALE SUPERHERO KICKING ASS.”
 reason for becoming a superhero is, above all, the same reason audiences have made the Marvel Universe the highest-grossing film franchise of all time: fun. “As an actor, I’ve never worried about being pigeonholed, but I [have] worried about getting bored. When my friends and I would put on plays, we’d put on plays because it was fun. I’ve never wanted to get in a position where acting wasn’t fun,” says Mackie. “[And] when I watched Batman as a kid, it looked like Jack [Nicholson] was having fun as the Joker. It looked like Danny DeVito was having fun as the Penguin. Michael Keaton was definitely having fun as Batman.”
Mackie is right: superheroes are fun. But his Falcon is also socially significant. For decades, superheroism has been tethered to whiteness, a reality that’s abundantly clear to every non-white kid that’s woken up early on a Saturday morning to watch cartoons. And while there’s a danger in boiling every story and performance from creators of colour down into milestones and broken barriers, the reality is that Mackie’s Falcon is today’s most prominent Black onscreen superhero. He’s well aware of the importance of such representation. “Be- fore they made [Wonder Woman 1984], I spoke up and said that little girls deserve representation. And little boys need that too. It means a lot to my sons to be able to see a female superhero kicking ass,” says Mackie.
While I’ll save you the plot details, know this: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier ends with Falcon becoming the new Captain America — the Captain America. It’s a reframing of the most American of heroes, one that has always represented the nation’s most idealized vision of itself in a package of bulging muscles and white skin.
Marvel has made a concerted effort to diversify its storylines in recent years, but it hasn’t always been reflected behind the scenes. Last year, Mackie criti- cized his employer by pointing out that he had starred in seven Marvel productions, yet nearly everyone on all seven sets had been white. “Now, if you look at a Marvel set, there’s a growing number of women and people of colour in positions of power,” says Mackie, optimistic that progress is being made. “[And] there are a lot of changes happening in the Marvel Universe
with so many characters — so many female characters, so many characters of different races and backgrounds — being brought to the forefront. I think phase four is going to be really exciting because it’s going to deal with more grounded and realistic everyday issues.”
As Mackie gears up to lead one of the world’s largest film franchises, it’s hard not to feel all warm and fuzzy about his success. Aside from the fact that he’s affable and charming, his ascent appeals to a base-level hope that we all have: that hard work, talent, and tenacity pay off. “When I did The Hurt Locker, nobody knew it was going to become what it became. Nobody knew 8 Mile was going to become what it became. But it’s those small building blocks [that] build up into oppor- tunities,” says Mackie. “I find it hilarious that people are surprised that the same person who played Papa Doc [in 8 Mile] is now Captain America. That’s the ultimate compliment to a career.”
Mackie is also eyeing a return to the stage. It’s trickier now as a father, as theatre productions often require actors to relocate for the better part of a year. “That’s a lot of soccer games I’m going to miss, a lot of shit I’m going to miss,” says Mackie. His solution: start his own theatre company at home in New Orleans. He is looking for a space, but he already has the cast figured out: a mix of local theatre friends and actors from elsewhere who want to spend a few months in New Orleans, away from Hollywood or Manhattan.
The pandemic’s only upside, says Mackie, is all the time he has spent at home. I ask him what it’s like to now go around New Orleans carrying the mantle of a character as iconic as Captain America. “I don’t really know yet,” he says. “Nothing has changed in my neighbourhood. My sisters still bully me. I still cut my grass. But I look forward to the things that will come with it. I’m very excited by what it will mean to the surrounding world [and] I look forward to seeing what the future holds for my character. But that’s [it] as of now. Because of COVID, I’ve been a superhero locked indoors.”
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